


Whisper Something (I'll Sing It Back To You)

by tiredly



Series: Whisper Something [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anxiety, Character Study, Ex Lovers, Freeform, Implied/Referenced Underage Drinking, Lance (Voltron)-centric, M/M, Mental Instability, Slow Burn, broganes, lovers to strangers to lovers, reunion i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-07
Updated: 2018-07-23
Packaged: 2019-06-06 13:00:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15195308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiredly/pseuds/tiredly
Summary: Hunk and Pidge were talking amongst the group. Lance wasn’t. His chest was too swollen with the memory of the hurt, of the anger, the waves of emotion that had never quite stopped lapping at his skin. He could feel his throat closing up, his airway blocked and his breath cut off like a corked bottle. Bitterness truly was an overpowering flavor, and right now, his tongue tasted of whiskey.He would recognize that mullet anywhere.





	1. Chapter 1

_“I can’t wait to get out of here.”_

_“Here?”_

_“Here.”_

_“Oh.”_

_“Yeah.”_

_Raindrops plinked against the wooden roof. The air was slow, thick, but comfortable._

_“...Where would you go, if not here?”_

 

-

 

The hoverbike raced across the desert, barely visible against the night sky, and hardly even worth noticing in the wake of the explosions behind it. But Lance did notice, and followed it with his eyes. A beautiful model, strong engines. A little banged up, with scratches and faded paint that for sure held memories behind them.

It looked simple. Ordinary, really, though it was anything but.

Lance felt lead in the pit of his stomach, the feeling of a memory surfacing to the top of his mind, the feeling of an old bitterness that had never quite faded, the feeling of abandonment, of confusion, of worry, all of which coming back up to nip at the heart they’d already put so many cracks in.

Hunk and Pidge were talking amongst the group. Lance wasn’t. His chest was too swollen with the memory of the hurt, of the anger, the waves of emotion that had never quite stopped lapping at his skin. He could feel his throat closing up, his airway blocked and his breath cut off like a corked bottle. Bitterness truly was an overpowering flavor, and right now, his tongue tasted of whiskey.

He would recognize that mullet anywhere.

 

-

 

_The bike was, simply put, just made to be ridden._

_Lance had cackled in delight, the first time he did so, and revelled in the feeling, the absolute recklessness and joy of the moment. The surge of ecstacy it brought, the flood of life coursing through his veins that he had been desperately awaiting, craving, needing, for what felt like years. The rare kind of elation, only truly present during their interactions outside of the Garrison’s walls, specific to current company only._

_Really, he lived for it; Not the bike - though it was definitely a perk - but for the absolute lack of any weight. The small break between his emotional tidal waves, the ones that allowed him to float back up and gulp the cool air above him, for however long as he could manage before inevitably being pulled back underwater._

_These moments were his drug of choice - and he was addicted._

_He was wondering whether or not it was even safe to be doing what he was; operating under the influence was strictly illegal - a criminal offense, in fact - and the sturdy arms wrapped tightly around him were definitely influential. The nose ghosting over his jaw, the chin on his shoulder, the mouth occasionally giving whispers of advice right next to his ear, all the more reason to go to the nearest police station and turn himself directly in._

_“Have you got any plans for tonight?”_

_But, he reasoned - stopping the bike as quickly as he could manage, turning around in his seat with heat rising to his chest - as unlawful as it may be, he really would prefer to keep his driver’s license._

 

-

 

_The house was a lot colder,_ Lance noted, as he walked through the door with Shiro’s arm slung over one shoulder. The warm aura that used to hit him whenever he entered through the creaky door frame, once a constant, had vanished. A sharp, jagged, painful absence.

He longed to feel it again. The tingle of excitement laced into the very oxygen they breathed that came with the anticipation of illegal liquor, unhushed voices, loss of boundaries, and the quiet scraping sound of teeth against collarbones.

He needed that punch of nicotine. To resurface from under the waves, gasp for air. It had been a year since his last one.

But he knew, just as how he knew riding the bike wouldn’t have the same exhilaration, that he wouldn’t be breathing any time soon.

“I’ll take the couch,” he declared, lifting his jaw, and brazenly dropping his backpack on the dusty wood floor.

 

-

 

_“Oh?”_

_“Yeah.”_

_“On the couch?”_

_“Didn’t stutter, did I?”_

_“Not somewhere more romantic?”_

_“What’s not to love about being romantic on a couch? Just call me pretty, turn my skin purple, and kiss me on the mouth every once in a while.”_

_“That, I can do. Now c’mere.”_

 

-

 

Keith tried to approach Lance later that night, edging into the living room where Lance sat in a chair. Keith pretended to check on Shiro, then shifted his weight from side to side until Lance finally, _finally_ gave in, turning his eyes toward him.

Of course, it was all after Pidge and Hunk had left to set up the sleeping arrangements in the bedroom, door closed so as not to let any sound through - Keith was nothing if not discreet.

 

_“Are you awake?”_

_“Yeah.”_

_“This is… this is just between us, right?”_

_“Uh. Sure, man.”_

_“Thanks.”_

_“Yeah. Can I… can I ask why?”_

_“It… it would definitely bring more attention. You know. Teachers and students would probably make it big. I already get too much of it.” Pause. “Too much attention, that is.”_

_“Too much from them, or too much from me?”_

_“Does it really look like I mind getting attention from you?”_

_“Point. Cuddle me, then? I can give you some more.”_

 

Really, Lance didn’t expect the night to come without some sort of confrontation. But it must have been a long and eventful year for Keith if he was really trying to initiate it so quickly. Lance had been thinking it would happen - no doubt it would; Lance knew that it needed to, and he wasn’t opposed to it either, but something about it made him angry. Something about Keith’s remorseful face, his sad eyes being too wide and too guilty for Lance’s taste. He looked like a kicked puppy.

But Keith wasn’t the one who got kicked. He was the kicker. He was the one who lifted his foot, considered, and released it.

Lance clenched his jaw, raised an eyebrow, and waited.

It happened quickly. “Lance-”

“No.” Lance stood and made his way to the couch, _their couch,_ making a point of not looking at Keith as he fluffed the pillow. (It was a shitty pillow. He used to laugh about how he hated using it.)

“Can we just. Can we please talk?” Keith persisted.

“You can talk. I’m gonna be sleeping.”

Rationally, Lance knew that he was being petty at best, completely moronic at worst. It was self-destructive; that was really the simplest and most accurate way to put it. And he knew that later it would just hurt him. But it felt so good to know that Keith saw how angry he was. To see Keith deal with the consequences of his decisions, rather than letting it fall onto Lance again.

“Why are you being like this?” Keith all but pleaded, stopping behind him, and were Lance not on the verge of screaming he thought he might laugh. “Look, we have to talk eventually. You have to know that by now. And you want to, I can see that much.” He paused, and Lance almost exhaled in relief, but then Keith opened his stupid mouth again. “Listen, Lance, I know that I-”

“Know this, Kogane,” Lance interrupted him, finally turning around to face him. “I’m fucking exhausted, and I’m going to sleep. That’s all. So unless you want to talk about places to buy yourself some new shitty pillows to replace this one, then you can fuck _directly_ off.”

Keith did just that, eyes full of hurt and frustration that brought an unfair satisfaction to a nasty, secluded place somewhere in Lance’s chest, spinning on his heel and throwing his jacket on the ground as he left the room.

Lance would be lying, though, if he said that the same part of him didn’t start to hurt instead, just a few minutes afterward.

 

-

 

_“He’s gonna be back. It’s gonna be what, two years? All you have to do is make sure you’re in one piece when he does. Bare minimum.”_

_“Ha. No promises.”_

_“Well, until then, I guess I’ll just have to keep you company double the usual amount.”_

_“Sounds like we’ll have a lot of time on our hands.”_

_“I wonder what we’ll do.”_

_“Hm. I’m sure we’ll be able to figure something out.”_

_“You really think so?”_

_…_

_“Oh, Jesus Christ.”_

 

-

 

The blue, metal lion standing before Lance was the most magnificent sight he’d ever seen. The physical manifestation of what must have been fate. Magic seemed to be laced into the air in it, the air surrounding it, a barely contained, buzzing, powerful energy that seemed to crackle and erupt when Lance moved his hand to knock on the forcefield.

It yielded to his touch immediately - gone without a single trace, disintegrating as neatly as it stood - and Keith gasped like he’d been slapped. Lance made sure to not look over at him, though he could feel the wide gray eyes pinned to his face as he stepped over what had once been impossibly guarded soil. Had one thing been different about the night before, he would have missed this moment entirely. Maybe it wouldn’t have even happened.

Lance’s hands trembled as his fingers grazed the smooth metal. It was cold, like it had been protected and shadowed in the cave for years - and maybe it had.

The seats inside of the machine were comfortable, though, much more so than the ones in the Garrison’s flight simulators. The seat itself was plush, soft, just the way Lance liked it, but the back of the chair was (albeit just as soft as the cushions) sturdy. Lance felt his back straighten, despite the hunch that he’d adopted in the Garrison, and almost laughed.

It was like the Lion was made for him, and him only.

 

-

 

As they flew from Earth, speeding through the infinite void of Outer Space, there was a lot to look at. The fading dot of their home planet, for one.

Lance didn’t watch the stars, or look at their system’s Sun. His eyes couldn’t seem to tear from the small blue dot that was displayed in a corner of the screen, shrinking by the second. Veronica, Luis, Marco, gone. His mom, gone. Even Veronica’s unborn baby - still fucking unnamed, God damn it, _only a month old_ \- gone. Thousands of miles away already, and the ship hadn’t even been flying for five minutes.

He lifted his sleeve up to wipe an unshed tear from his eye before it managed to make its way down his face, hoping that the others didn’t notice. _Takashi_ freaking _Shirogane_ was in his ship. He couldn’t just cry in front of these people, like some kind of child. An immature, ungrateful child.

After looking around, though, he saw that they were all blessedly distracted. Pidge and Hunk had their faces pressed against the clear glass windows, while Shiro was looking for a manual in the toolbox near the entrance. Nobody was looking at Lance.

He felt a gloved hand brush against his shoulder. _Almost nobody_.

Lance scowled, straightening his shoulders. The hand fell off, dejectedly.

Keith was looking at Lance - he could feel his gaze burning a hole into the side of his face, trying to catch his focus. Why was he looking at Lance? It wasn’t as if Lance was the most interesting or attractive thing in view. And it wasn’t as if Lance was trying to hold his attention. For once, he didn’t want Keith to keep looking at him; he just wanted to be able to get himself under control away from prying eyes.

He could still feel his own eyes watering.

 

-

 

_“Let’s just leave.”_

_“Leave?”_

_“Leave. Up and leave.”_

_“You’re still a little drunk, aren’t you?”_

_“Maybe so. But I mean it. I mean it.”_

_“Is it gonna be just for the weekend? Or are we skipping classes?”_

_“Neither.”_

_“Wait, huh?”_

_…_

_“Keith?”_

_“Forgot what I was saying.”_

_“Ha. Told you. Still drunk.”_

_“Asshole.”_

_“Love you too.”_

_…_

_“I didn’t mean to say that. Um. Sorry.”_

_…_

_“I guess I might be a little drunk too?”_

_…_

_“Oh. You’re asleep. Okay.”_

_…_

_“Ha. Goodnight, Keith.”_


	2. Chapter 2

_“I hate this place.”_

_  
“So you keep saying.”_  

_  
“Quit laughing at me.”_

_  
“M’not laughing at you, promise. I’m just… asthmatic.”_

_  
…_

_  
“Hey! You don’t pinch someone after sex.”_

_  
“You don’t laugh at someone after getting fucked by them.”_

_  
“You obviously don’t know me, then.”_

_  
“You’re a dick.”_

_  
“And you’re cute when you’re flustered.”_

_  
“Hmpf.”_

-  
  


Keith, apparently, was going to be stuck to Lance for an indeterminable amount of time - until either the war was won or they died trying. It truly was just Lance’s luck. He had been hoping that they could just return the damn lion to wherever it wouldn’t cause him trouble, then go home with one hell of an adventure to brag about to his family. 

  
But in the meantime, at the very least he could make sure to flirt with both of the Alteans. That’s a check off his newly edited bucket list.

  
He would also make sure to be doing so in front of Keith, as a minor detail that brought an ugly satisfaction to him when he saw Keith’s eyes flash with anger. Frustration. Hurt.

  
Letting him walk in what had been Lance’s shoes for the past year.

  
And it was cruel - he knew that, somewhere, deep down inside of him, he knew that - but it felt so good, so validating, so fucking compensating, that he couldn’t help but keep up with his antics.

  
Even though he could practically hear scolding from the miniature Hunk in his head.

  
He found himself wishing that he had told Hunk the truth about him and Keith, back when it had actually started. It was only two years prior, and in the midst of an apparently intergalactic war, multiple genocides, and millennia of loss, two years was simply that: two years. But it felt like a lifetime.

  
Lance knew that, in his morally gray areas, Hunk would be able to tell him off properly. Hunk would be able to help him. Because that’s what Hunk did. Hunk cared, Hunk helped, Hunk rationalized.

  
Hunk would be able to stop Lance in his fucking tracks, make him own up and talk to Keith instead of dancing around him like a cat.

  
Better yet, Hunk would have been able to help Lance the moment they discovered that Keith had left. Hunk would have let Lance scream, let him cry, let him curse the fucking  
ground Keith walked on - not into a bottle of stolen alcohol and a pillow, but into his shoulders.

  
Because Hunk was good. Hunk was too good for someone as spiteful, as secretive, as unfair as Lance.

  
And deep down, Lance knew that Keith was, too.  


-

 _  
“What are you thinking?”_  

_  
“About what your hands look like without the gloves.”_

_  
“What?”_

_  
“That was a joke. But now that I think about it, you haven’t taken them off in a while.”_

_  
“You’ve been with me in the shower at least three times.”_

_  
“Hm. Good times, good times. But I guess that’s true. I just wasn’t really focusing on your hands.”_

_  
“That was the worst wink you’ve ever given me.”_

_  
“M’ just tired. I’ll try again tomorrow, if you’ll be there?”_

_  
“Wouldn’t miss it.”_

_  
“Hmm.”_

_  
“What were you actually thinking about?”_

_  
“My mom. And sister. And brothers.”_

_  
“You could call them.”_

_  
“It’s probably like five in the morning for them right now.”_

_  
“Oh. Right. Time isn’t real.”_

_  
…_

_  
“Are you gonna be okay?”_

_  
“...Yeah. I think I’ll be fine.”_

_  
“Sweet dreams.”_

_  
“I have no fucking idea how you always say that with a straight face.”_

_  
“I’ve never said a single thing with a straight face.”_

_  
“...That was actually clever.”_

_  
“I try.”_

_  
“Love you.”_

_  
“...Go to sleep. You can retry that wink in the morning.”_

  
“Lucky me.”  


-

  
The team building exercises prescribed by Coran must have been the worst part of it all. Like a complete slap to the face. A glob of spit on a brand new pair of shoes. 

  
All he really wanted to do was avoid Keith, stay at a fair distance for as long as he felt necessary. But instead, there he stood in the training rooms, watching the sweat drip from Keith’s brow as he tried to take down a simulation. With that unfairly tight black shirt clinging to him underneath the armor.

  
Fuck team building, fuck Voltron, and fuck Keith especially.

  
But Lance could deal with his own sexual frustration. He had been for the last year. What he couldn’t handle, however, was the guilt.

  
Perhaps it was knowing exactly how Keith felt that made him feel so horrid. After Coran strapped them all up to the mind-melding devices, he could very clearly see each of his teammates’ thoughts as they tried to get a hold over themselves.

  
Meaning, he could see his own face in Keith’s mind, and could feel the sad, foggy thoughts surrounding it. There was a surprisingly low amount of anger, too - which was surprising, because really, this was _Keith_ \- which only served to make it worse.

  
It was unfair. That’s precisely what it was. Because really, didn’t Lance deserve this? Didn’t he need his own time to heal? Didn’t he have every right to show Keith exactly how much he had been hurt by him?

  
But each time he made a pass at Allura, and in turn saw Keith’s eyes look away just slightly wetter than they had been before, he felt worse. Because, he knew, it wasn’t just  
Keith’s fault anymore - and it hadn’t been ever since they reunited.

  
Now the villain was none other than Lance himself, and he knew it.  


-

 _  
“Do I bother you?”_  

_  
“What?”_

_  
“When I get clingy. When I. I don’t know. When I ask for affection.”_

_  
“What are you saying, Lance? It’s - fuck, it’s three in the morning.”_

_  
“Sorry, sorry, that was stupid, I guess. Forget it. I’ll sleep if you w-”_

_  
“No, no, I mean, I’m awake now, I just. I have no idea what you mean.”_

_  
…_

_  
“Do you actually want me to forget about it?”_

_  
“If you want.”_

_  
“Lance. Please?”_

_  
“...Does it bother you when I act too lovey-dovey?”_

_  
…_

_  
“I don’t know. Never mind. Sorry.”_

_  
“Lance?”_

_  
“Yeah?”_

_  
“It doesn’t.”_

_  
“Are you saying that to make me feel better? I promise, it’s okay. Just tell me if I come on too strong. I do that sometimes. But I can stop. Really. I just need you to tell me.”_

_  
“I like the way you act just fine. I don’t want you to change any of it.”_

_  
“... Are you sure?”_

_  
“Lance, where is all of this coming from?”_

_  
…_

_  
“Lance?”_

_  
“I don’t know.”_

_  
“Do you want to talk more?”_

_  
“If you want.”_

_  
“...I just want you to feel better.”_

_  
…_

_  
“Are you asleep?”_

_  
“...I’m tired. I think I need to be.”_

_  
“Okay. See you in the morning?”_

_  
“Yeah.”_

_  
“Sweet dreams.”_

_  
“Ha. You’re the sweet dream, here.”_

_  
“Christ. Just fall asleep already, why don’t you.”_

  
“Okay. Love you.”  


-

  
Of course, as situations tend to do, this one heightened. Lance wasn’t even sure when exactly it happened - only that he woke up one day and couldn’t fall asleep the same night. 

  
Perhaps it was when he had seen Keith’s nose twitch in disgust at the food goo, and he had felt a fleeting urge, one of habit and recklessness, to poke the tip lightly. Just as he had always done before, when they had eaten together at least weekly.

  
Perhaps it was the electricity that seemed to dance on Lance’s skin when Allura bound their wrists and he touched Keith, however involuntarily it may have been, for the first time in months. And subsequently, the cold, the empty, the dejected feeling that followed, when they had earned their freedom.

  
Perhaps it was the lively, triumphant grin that Keith wore through the entirety of the food fight, and then briefly afterward, revelling in his victory and exhilaration. Lance had  
stared, blessedly without any of the others taking notice, and wondered how long it had been since he smiled like that.

  
Which led to him wondering why he even fucking cared.

  
(He knew why).  


-

  
_“Can I meet him?”_  

_  
“Huh?”_

_  
“Shiro. When he gets back, I mean.”_

_  
“I. Um. Why are you asking permission?”_

_  
“Well, he’s your brother, isn’t he? I thought. Um. I thought…”_

_  
“I’m confused.”_

_  
“...Does he, uh. Does he know about me?”_

_  
“Oh.”_

_  
…_

_  
“I didn’t tell him before he left.”_

_  
“Oh.”_

_  
“I just-”_

_  
“It’s fine, Keith. It’s your family. I know that’s hard to do.”_

_  
“Do you… do you want me to?”_

_  
“If you want.”_

_  
“I do, actually.”_

_  
“...Really?”_

_  
“Yeah.”_

_  
“Because you don’t have to.”_

_  
“I want to.”_

_  
“And he’s cool? With. You know.”_

_  
“I’m pretty sure he’s not straight himself.”_

_  
“Ah. I should have known he was too smart for that.”_

_  
“I send a video to him every Friday. Would you… would you feel okay if I-”_

_  
“Yes.”_

_  
“Are you sure?”_

_  
“I’ve… I’ve kind of been dying to know if he. Well. If he’d approve of me.”_

_  
…_

_  
“Sorry, I-”_

_  
“He would.”_

_  
…_

  
“I think he really would.”  


-

  
Keith was different from the boy Lance met at the Garrison. He was different than the person he’d fixated on, started the rivalry with, pestered and flirted and become impassioned with. He was even different than the boy that Lance fell in love with. 

  
Lance was different too. And therein laid the problem. For if they had grown in different directions, perhaps this would be easier. It would be the logical option, the least painful option, to simply allow their past to stay on Earth. To work together with a common goal, a shared passion, in the understanding that they had been made anew, no longer compatible, no longer burning together as colliding supernovas.

  
But, even throughout their year of separation, on opposite sides of a wall, the unyielding barrier of stone and cheap whiskey bottles piled between them, they remained.

  
Fate - cruel enough to lead Lance to Keith. Worse still to allow him to fall in love. But, unforgivably, to send him through the corrosive stages of grief only to find that, in the end, Keith was still everything Lance wanted.  


-

 _  
“I did it.”_  

_  
“You did it?”_

_  
“I filmed the video.”_

_  
“Oh. Oh! You did it!”_

_  
“Yeah.”_

_  
“Keith!”_

_  
“I know. I had to try a few times.”_

_  
“This is. Wow.”_

_  
“Yeah.”_

_  
…_

_  
“What is it?”_

_  
“I don’t know. Nothing. Nothing bad. I just. This means so much, Kieth.”_

_  
“Yeah. I think I know what you mean.”_

_  
“Wow.”_

_  
“Ha. Yeah. Wow.”_

_  
“Wow indeed.”_

_  
…_

_  
“You know this is gonna be the first person who knows, right? About. About me and you.”_

_  
“Yeah.”_

_  
“And… you’re okay with that?”_

_  
…_

_  
“I don’t want to push you. If you need to back out… I really understand.”_

_  
…_

_  
“Keith?”_

_  
“I’m ready.”_

_  
“Do you want me to call in and tell them to send it?”_

_  
“Yeah.”_

_  
“Put it on speaker, too? If you want.”_

  
“Obviously.”  


-

  
Lance tried not to make it a habit of opening up to strangers during stressful moments. The nunvill must have made him woozy. Unguarded. Even more homesick than usual. 

  
It was fine, though. Coran was a good listener.

  
But while being able to talk about Earth without judgement was comforting, the unsettling feeling of dread pooling in Lance’s stomach was less so. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong. And it was about to make itself known.

 

-

 

 _When Lance was a child, he and his father bonded over their love for the ocean. The water was warm in Cuba. The views were beautiful. The sun was bright. Each morning the birds spent singing for him in their own cheerful language. And Lance loved it there, loved swimming around, collecting shells, surfing the waves on shores that tourists couldn’t find. His home was beautiful._  

_  
One day, though, he refused to go surfing with his family. His mother was bewildered. Disappointed, too. “The wind would be rough before the upcoming storm, his parents had said to him. That’s always when the waves are best. You love it like that. Leandro, what’s wrong? Why won’t you surf?”_

_  
In truth, Lance hadn’t known why at the time. He didn’t know why his skin writhed at the thought of going into the water. He didn’t want to waste a day. He didn’t want to waste a storm. But when he glanced up, trying to gather the courage step foot out of their door, he saw the choppy waters on the beach. He smelled the salty wind blowing from the East. The cawing of seabirds no longer sounded like music to his ears, but a warning. A threat._

_  
And he promptly threw up._

_  
His parents took care of him for the rest of the day. He watched cartoons all morning, then slept until sunset. He got his favorite ice cream (mint chocolate chip) before dinner. His mother packed extra blankets onto his bed that night, and he woke up the next morning to pancakes._

_  
And then, fifteen minutes later on the news, the image of a chewed up surfboard on bloody sands of the cove near their home. Taken the day before, just around noon._

 

-

   
Pidge’s robot beeped. Started moving toward Coran, who’s back was turned, who was still chattering, unknowing, vulnerable. A clear target. In that moment, Lance saw two options: yell to Coran and hope he moves in time, or block him.

  
His feet started moving on their own.  


-  
  


_“It’s ringing.”_

_  
“It’s on speaker, you doof. I know.”_

_  
“Asshole.”_

_  
…_

_  
Department of Communications. How may I help you?_

_  
“Hey, Linda, it’s Keith.”_

_  
Keith Kogane?_

_  
“Yes.”_

_  
Mr. Kogane… why are you calling us?_

_  
“Yeah, I know I don’t usually call , but I’ve sent a video to you. I’d like it to be forwarded to Takashi Shirogane, aboard the Kerberos mission.”_

_…_

_  
“Hello?”_

_  
…_

_  
“Listen, I don’t know if you can hear me, but I need this sent. It’s not marking as seen, and I know the deadline to send them is soon-”_

_  
Mr. Kogane-_

_  
“-and this one is a little more important to me than the others-”_

_  
Sir, please try to-_

_  
“-and it’s just making me a little nervous-”_

_  
Mr Kogane._

_  
“Yes?”_

_  
I think… I think you might need to take a seat._

-

  
Lance felt the shrapnel and flames on his back as the bomb exploded.  


-

 

_Yesterday night, at 7:43 PM, mission control received knowledge that the Galaxy Garrison’s Kerberos Mission, piloted by Takashi Shirogane, suffered a crash. The ship was critically damaged._

_  
…_

_  
There were no survivors._

_  
…_

_  
I’m very sorry for your loss, Mr. Kogane._

_  
…_

_  
[END CALL]_


	3. Chapter 3

_ “Hey, Keith.” _

_ …  _

_ “Um. You weren’t in classes today.” _

_ …  _

_ “Maybe you’re still with Nurse Avery. I know she was worried about you when I brought you in.” _

_ …  _

_ “I’m worried about you, too.” _

_ …  _

_ “I don’t know how to end this. Just. Just call me back, yeah?” _

_ …  _

_ “Please.” _

_ … _

_ “This is all gonna be okay, okay? Promise.” _

_ …  _

_ “I love you.” _

_ [VOICEMAIL SENT] _

 

-

 

Lance saw Keith’s face - the very last image that flew through his mind - before the bomb detonated on him.

In those fractions of a second, as time slowed down to nothing, he felt the first time Keith’s hands touched his face, and he remembered how he had sighed into it. How that had been the first time someone had touched him affectionately in months. 

He felt the first body-shaking howls of laughter that Keith had shocked out of him, the first night they’d seen each other outside of class, on the roof of the Garrison. He had tried to imitate Iverson, scrunching up his nose and mouth and letting out a string of insults unfit for repeating. Lance had decided then and there that he liked Keith.

He felt the first brushing of their lips together - ironically, only ten minutes into the aforementioned meeting. 

A chance introduction, an accidental run-in, an unplanned miracle or maybe a stray tragedy; interchangeably.

The smoldering coal at the beginning of a bonfire that would turn Lance into ash.

 

-

 

_ “It’s Lance.” _

_ …  _

_ “Keith, I-” _

_ …  _

_ “Ha. I don’t-”  _

_ … _

_ “Keith-” _

_ … _

_ “I don’t know where you are. Jeff says he hasn’t seen you in the dorm since he woke up this morning.” _

_ …  _

_ “Obviously my first thought was the nurse’s office, but you weren’t there.” _

_ …  _

_ “My second thought was the house, but the bike is still here where I left it. So. Unless you’ve taken up speed walking recently, ha, I um- I don’t. Ha.” _

_ … _

_ “It’s worrying me. I know you probably really want some space. You’re hurting. I know that, and I want to give it to you. But I don’t know where you are, or if you need-” _

_ … _

_ “Well. If you need me. Guess this answers that pretty well, ha, but. It would be easier to tell if you said it. To me.” _

_ …  _

_ “Keith, please, call me back, okay?” _

_ … _

_ “I’m not going anywhere, you know. We can get through this. I love you.” _

_ [VOICEMAIL SENT] _

 

-

 

It was hard to be angry with someone when you loved them.

Lance remembered one time he had went out surfing when the winds were too high, the waves too rough, the rocks sharp and his bones fragile. His mother had absolutely forbidden them from going in the water that week. Not with the upcoming storm. But storms produced the best waves - everybody in Cuba knew that, and he had just wanted to ride one wave. He would be careful. She would have never had to find out, and she would never have to worry about him. 

But she did, and she did, because he came limping home with a smashed board and a bleeding knee. 

He remembered that, when she was helping to clean his wound, she had been crying. It was unsettling to see her so vulnerable while she was furious, and so he asked her why.  _ Because, mijo, _ she had sighed after a pause,  _ it is because I love you. And I am angry with you. And it hurts me, to be angry with the ones I love. _

He had looked at her like she was crazy. She had smiled (though she tried her best to conceal it - she was supposed to be scolding him, after all) and gone back to patching his knee up.  _ Te quiero, mijito. No more questions. Someday, you will understand. _

He did.

 

-

 

_ “Keith, I don’t-” _

_ …  _

_ “I don’t really, uh, I don’t know how to say this, not without it sounding dumb. I guess I’ve sounded dumb before. Like, really, this shouldn’t be much different. Except that it is. Kind of different, that is. Or isn’t. I don’t know.” _

_ … _

_ “Here goes? I mean. I’ve already started talking. I don’t know how to delete a voicemail instead of sending it.” _

_ …  _

_ “You mean a lot to me, you know? I need to know you’re alright. It’s, well, I guess it’s probably just me being dramatic, it’s probably just my own head, it’s. It’s me, being scared, but I  _ am  _ scared, and you’re just. You’re gone, you’re just- you’re gone, you- you’re gone without a word, and I don’t know if you’re okay, if you’re not, if you’re even- if. If you’re.” _

_ … _

_ “Fuck, Keith, I’m scared, and I know you’re scared too, and you think you’re alone, but you’re not, and I just need to know you’re okay, and that you haven’t run off impulsively, because the bike is still here but you aren’t and I’m going, I’m- I’m going fucking insane.” _

_ …  _

_ “Please call me back? Keith… please call me back. I love you.” _

_ … _

_ “And I don’t know how much more I can take.” _

_ … _

_ “I’m so worried about you.” _

_ … _

_ “I love you.” _

_ [VOICEMAIL SENT] _

 

-

 

Lance couldn’t decide if he was dead or not. 

In fourth grade, he’d had a classmate with epilepsy. She was a quiet, gentle hearted girl named Rosie, who Lance liked to talk to during recess. They picked the dandelions in the field and made flower crowns out of them, then complained when their hands got sticky afterward. She was good at most of the subjects, and helped Lance with math. In return, he paired with her for science worksheets.

But one day, she didn’t show up to school. It was odd to be without her - every day she was in her seat five minutes before the bell - but he didn’t think much of it. People got sick sometimes. People missed school sometimes. He tried not to pay any mind.

Until his mother told him after school, in the gentle tone that she would always use to break bad news to him, that she was in the hospital. That she’d had an epileptic attack, fallen, and hit her head. That even after a medical team got to her, her heartbeat had stopped three times before stabilizing. His mother told him not to press her about it, to be gentle and casual with her when she got back to school the next week, to let it heal. 

Then she had hugged him and told him that it was gonna be okay. He didn’t understand. Why would he be upset? She was alright now, right? 

He thought about it for the next week, wondering what Rosie would be able to tell him. Wondering what it felt like to die. Rosie was the only person he hung out with who had ever died. She would know, and then it would be solved. He would never worry about dying again, because once she got back, he would know what would be waiting for him. He would be ready.

When he finally did get to ask her, though, she had just shrugged and said it felt like nothing. Like closing your eyes underwater. And then she had picked another flower, and asked what the cafeteria was serving after recess.

Lance couldn’t talk to anybody for the rest of the day.

It was funny, really - Rosie probably didn’t even remember that conversation. She probably never thought about Lance at all. But now, her words were all that he could hear.  _ Like closing your eyes underwater.  _

Maybe he was dead. 

 

-

 

_ “Ha. What am I doing.” _

_ …  _

_ “Just. Can you just answer?” _

_ … _

_ “Please?” _

_ … _

_ “I need you. I love you.” _

_ …  _

_ “I love you so much it hurts. I can’t breathe.” _

_ … _

_ “I can’t breathe.” _

_ … _

_ “Please call me back.” _

_ … _

_ “I love you.” _

_ [VOICEMAIL SENT] _

 

-

 

If he was dead, then heaven was a shitty, shitty place.

Every once in a while, he felt a sharp pain tear across his back. That probably wasn’t supposed to happen. And he could hear Keith’s voice. That definitely wasn’t supposed to happen. 

It was so still. So detached. Aside from the occasional tremor, a muted shudder in an otherwise motionless plane. Aside from the infrequent moments of unreadable sound, short notes sounding between stretches of absolute silence.

Lance wished that it wasn’t so easy to identify those sounds as Keith’s voice. He wished it had been just a little murkier, a little less tonally specific - he wished that, after dying, there hadn’t been the reminder of who he left behind.

Because he  _ was  _ dead, and this was undoubtedly Keith’s voice. 

So it seemed that, even in death, Lance could not escape him. Through time, through space, through consciousness and life itself, Keith would follow. Keith would always follow.

Lance was tired of trying to convince himself he no longer wanted him to. 

What did he want, then?

 

-

 

_ “Keith?” _

_ …  _

_ “Listen, I know this is getting through to you. The connection at the house isn’t  _ that  _ shitty.” _

_ …  _

_ “Is it really that unbearable to talk to me?” _

_ …  _

_ “I thought that when I left you at the nurse’s office that you’d come to me when you were ready. Like, yeah. You were in shock, and you passed out, and I didn’t think you’d wanted to be crowded when you woke up. Okay? I got that. I get it.” _

_ …  _

_ “I do.” _

_ …  _

_ “But I thought you’d care enough about me to at least let me know that you were fucking okay, okay? I thought that maybe, maybe I wouldn’t have to find out from fucking Iverson. Iverson, Keith! I went to that douchebag and asked about you. Because you weren’t even opening my texts? Keith, that was my only option, and if you thought I wanted to hear from him, him of all people, that I had moved up a class because you’ve dropped out, then fuck you. Fuck you. I was terrified.” _

_ …  _

_ “I kept our alibi, though.” _

_ …  _

_ “Not that it should matter anyway, because you’ve fucking left already. But. He doesn’t know. They don’t know. Everyone still thinks we’re just rivals.” _

_ … _

_ “Just fucking. Just call me back, okay?” _

_ …  _

_ “Sorry. I shouldn’t have gotten mad.” _

_ … _

_ “We could fix this, you know? I know they’d let you back in the Garrison if you asked. They love you.” _

_ … _

_ “Please, just call me back. I don’t care what you decide to do, as long as- as long as you- as long as you just… please, Keith?” _

_ … _

_ “I love you.” _

_ [VOICEMAIL SENT] _

 

-

 

Keith’s voice was too loud. Was Lance dead? 

Sounds shouldn’t be that loud when you’re dead. This wasn’t anything like a dark swimming pool. This wasn’t like what Rosie told him. 

_ I don’t know. Kinda felt like nothing. Didn’t feel good. Or bad, either. _

His back wasn’t just aching anymore, though. It was intense. It was  _ hurting  _ him. 

_ I couldn’t hear anything, either. _

Lance couldn’t say the same. All he could do was listen to Keith’s voice, able to discern it from anything else, unable to make out words. So close. So far. 

_ Like, if you close your eyes in a swimming pool, what do you see?  _

(Nothing.)

_ Yeah, nothing. I didn’t really see anything. Like closing your eyes underwater.  _

But he did see.

He saw Keith, standing across the room.

He saw Keith, being swung at.

He saw Keith, being approached by Sendak, weapon drawn.

He saw the crosshairs of his blaster, felt the trigger, heard the shot echoing painfully around the room - or maybe it was only resounding in his head - and then fell back into the deep end. This time, he stayed there. 

 

-

 

_ … _

_ “You’re a dick.” _

_ …  _

_ “I mean it.” _

_ … _

_ “I really mean it, Keith.” _

_ … _

_ “God, Keith, couldn’t you just call me back? Why is it so impossible to just let me know you’ve seen this?” _

_ …  _

_ “It’s just that. It’s just.” _

_ … _

_ “I thought I meant more to you, I guess. It’s not your fault. It’s not your fault. I shouldn’t have put too much hope into things.” _

_ … _

_ “Ha.” _

_ …  _

_ “When did you realize? That I wasn’t right for you, I mean.” _

_ … _

_ “I guess that was actually just me trying to ask how long it’s been up to today. Ha. Gotta know how much time I spent embarrassing myself. For research purposes, you know, haha.” _

_ … _

_ “Sorry. This is getting stupid.” _

_ … _

_ “Please call me back.” _

_ [VOICEMAIL SENT] _

 

-

 

_ “Hey… hey, Keith, hey.” _

_ …  _

_ “I need to ask a question. Two. Skip a few. Ha.” _

_ … _

_ “I forgot them. Actually. I don’t remember how I even got my phone in my hand.” _

_ … _

_ “Maybe it called you on its own.” _

_ … _

_ -Hiccup- _

_ …  _

_ “I don’t know what to do with myself- NO, that sounds. That sounds clingy, sorry, how about, how about I just. Miss you.” _

_ … _

_ “Because you’re gone.” _ _  
_ _ …  _

_ “Left, didn’t you. Ha. Just up and left the Garrison.” _

_ … _

_ “Said goodbye to Iverson. Not me. But hey, he’s got an eyepatch now? He looks like a pirate. Haha. Ha. When did that happen?” _

_ … _

_ “...Did you really have to leave without saying anything? Anything, at all?” _

_ … _

_ -Hiccup- _

_ … _

_ “I always was a little jealous of you, you know. Before. Before you and I accidentally caught each other on the roof. I just thought you were awesome. My roommate, Hunk- Hunk, he would smirk every time I brought you up. Because he knew I was jealous. And a little gay.” _

_ …  _

_ “I really regretted not being able to tell him. I respected your privacy though. Always kept you in-” _

_ -Hiccup- _

_ “-kept you in mind.” _

_ … _

_ “God. Fucking, fuck you, you ass. Hole. Fuck off.” _

_ -Hiccup- _

_ “You really thought, huh? You- thought you just. Ha. Thought. You fucking thought that I wouldn’t get attached, okay, sure. Whatever.” _

_ … _

_ “This isn’t as good as the stuff you usually get. But it’s fucking strong. Whatever. It’s all just. It’s all whatever.” _

_ -Hiccup- _

_ …  _

_ “I just can’t believe you never even told me. You never even texted. You just left, you’re gone, you’re fucking. You’ve left.” _

_ … _

_ “You’ve left me.” _

_ … _

_ -Hiccup- _

_ … _

_ “I hate you.” _

_ [VOICEMAIL SENT] _

 

_ - _

 

_ “Keith?” _

_ … _

_ “Keith, I’m sorry. I love you, I don’t- I couldn’t. I could never. Hate you. I didn’t mean it. I’m just. Keith, I’m.” _

_ … _

_ “I’m so scared.” _

_ … _

_ “But I guess scared isn’t even the right word, it’s. I’m not scared. I just miss you.” _

_ … _

_ -Hiccup- _

_ … _

_ “I would have done it, you know. You know? It was when you were. You were drunk. We both drank, both were drunk. And. And you asked me to leave with you. I would have done it. Even if you meant forever. I would have done it.” _

_ … _

_ “I would still. I would still do it.” _

_ … _

_ “And, ha. You would always talk about… talk about. You would-” _

_ … _

_ “Sorry- I’m so. I shouldn’t cry, I shouldn’t- I don’t even-” _

_ … _

_ “You would always. You would always talk. Talk about- about-” _

_ … _

_ “Leaving.” _

_ … _

_ “Ha.” _

_ … _

_ -Hiccup- _

_ … _

_ “You would always talk about leaving. How you couldn’t wait to leave. How you hated it here, couldn’t stand it, wanted out, you- you. You always needed out. Out of the Garrison program? At first, I thought- I thought you meant. I thought you meant the house, or your dorm, or. Or the fucking state of Nevada, Keith. I don’t-” _

_ … _

_ “Then I realized. You just wanted to run. Run from the school. From the people in it.” _

_ … _

_ “And I-” _

_ … _

_ “I guess I was one of them.” _

_ … _

_ “But you didn’t make me feel like one of them. Keith. You made me feel. You made me feel like.” _

_ … _

_ “You made me feel like the most important person in the world.” _

_ … _

_ “I would say that I loved you, and that you never had to feel pressured to say it back to me, because I meant it. I didn’t want to overwhelm you.” _

_ … _

_ “Loving you was enough to keep me above water.” _

_ … _

_ “Because you would stroke my back when we were together, even when I didn’t want sex, you would just rub my shoulders and you looked happy to do it. And. And you never got mad, even though you’re always mad, and you had every right to be, but. But you- you would be patient with me. And you would- you would ask to go out on the town sometimes, just to see me, because you wanted to  _ see me _ , and I- fuck- I was the happiest person on Earth. To see you, too. Fuck, Keith, you made me feel- You made me feel s- so fucking-” _

_ … _

_ “Being around you made me feel so fucking happy.” _

_ … _

_ “I… I really loved you.” _

_ …  _

_ -Hiccup- _

_ …  _

_ “Did you ever even care?” _

_ [VOICEMAIL SENT] _

 

-

 

_ “Just. Just ignore those, okay? I didn’t do so well last night. But it’s all good. I’m all good.” _

_ … _

_ “Ha. You know, I never thought I’d be the one leaving a bunch of drunk voicemails after a breakup.” _

_ … _

_ “That’s what this is, isn’t it?” _

_ … _

_ “A breakup.” _ _  
_ _ … _

_ “Ha.” _

_ …  _

_ “It’s all good, though. Seriously. I mean, what. It’s not like we were ever… official. It’s not your fault that I got used to it. It was. Yeah.” _

_ … _

_ “I mean.” _

_ … _

_ “I. I mean. It’s not like y-” _

_ … _

_ “It’s not like you ever said it back.” _

_ … _

_ “I’m. I don’t know.” _

_ … _

_ “Bye.” _

_ [VOICEMAIL SENT] _

  
  


-

 

Lance had felt the shame burning at his cheeks after leaving the lounge.

As it so turned out, even when he wanted to fix things, he couldn’t do it. Even when he would have given anything to be cradled in Keith’s arms, he couldn’t remember it happening just a day earlier.

And now, nothing. Keith wouldn’t forgive him. Why would he? There was no reason to give Lance any sort of absolution - really, there hadn’t been since the night they reunited. 

_ “Know this, Kogane - you can fuck directly off.” _

Lance wasn’t the victim here. Lance wasn’t the protagonist of the story. He wasn’t even the love interest. Lance was just the villain - all clenched fists and cold eyes, broken heart and bitter memories driving him to cruelty. And while there would always be some trying to find value in him still, he thought,he  would never have anything of worth to redeem him with. 

What did he offer?

A buzzing rang through the walls of his quarters. A doorbell. 

“Come in,” he sighed, expecting Hunk or Pidge. A lecture. A hug. A pinch on the arm. All subject to change, of course, depending on just how shut he was able to keep his mouth, of course, and he planned on doing so. But when he looked up at the doors, it was Shiro standing in the frame. “Oh, Shiro? Uh, wow. Ha. Sorry, I thought it was Hunk.” He huffed under his breath softly, wishing he was less of a mess.

“It’s no problem,” Shiro smiled.  “How are you doing?”

“It’s all good,” Lance answered on reflex.

“No it’s not,” Shiro said. Lance felt his face warm up, and looked at the ground. “You were comatose for a day and a bomb exploded on you. There’s no way it’s all good.” Shiro was right. Of course he was right. He was Takashi Shirogane. And it wasn’t all good. 

Lance just shrugged, though. “Ha. You know. Just a few scratches, then you wake up, and eating food afterwards. Average day at home.” Shiro looked down at him disapprovingly, but moved on.

“Mind if I sit? My legs are tired. There aren’t any chairs near the healing pods…” he seemed to contemplate saying something for a few seconds. “Feel bad for Keith, though. Stayed longer than anyone else.”

Lance choked on the very air around him at that. But if Shiro heard, he didn’t mention it, and sat down. The chair squeaked.

“But,” he sighed, “apparently these Altean pods really are something. They definitely look better than anything the Galra used. I guess they really liked the whole aesthetic the scars bring. You know, all that stuff. And it… well. There are some things that a healing pod isn’t really able to change.” 

And then he picked up a pen, and twiddled it around in his metal hand. Definitely a stalling technique, but he seemed genuinely surprised that its grip was gentle enough.

“I…” Lance didn’t know how to answer. How could he?

The prospect of talking, of confiding anything, of trusting someone again, made his hair stand on end. Starting a thread of trust, reaching his hand out to someone. It was useless, and bound to fail; he knew it ended, and he knew how. 

It ended with pain. It ended with cheap fireball that stung on its way down and burned on its way back up. It ended with tears muffled by pillows and puffy eyes in the morning, with unread texts and missed calls. 

“Shiro, I… what are you trying to say?” He hated the way his voice wavered. 

“I’m saying that I know what it feels like. Being that close to death.”  Really makes things seem different after you wake back up.” Shiro looked away from the pen, and at Lance. “And I know that you don’t like to show other people that you’re in pain. But it’s okay to be.” He stood up. “And I’ll be here for you if you need it.”

He turned to leave, and Lance’s mouth moved before his brain did. “Shiro?”

“Yeah?”

“...How much did he tell you?”

Shiro paused in the doorway, but Lance couldn’t bring himself to look at his face. “He told me enough.” 

Lance’s heart sank. “Oh.”

Shiro didn’t approve. Of course he didn’t. Why would Keith’s brother be remotely pleased with it? Keith was strong, bold, full of potential and courage. Keith was Keith. And Lance was Lance. 

“Lance, can you look at me?” Lance did. He was surprised to find that Shiro’s eyes weren’t reproachful. “I’ve known for a while now.”

“Since Kerberos?”

“It started earlier than that, didn’t it?”

“...Yes.”

“Lance.” Shiro stepped back into the room and put a hand on Lance’s shoulder. “It’s okay.”

Lance felt like he was suffocating. Maybe it was the lump in his throat, or maybe the oxygen regulator in his room was malfunctioning. He almost wished it was the latter, rather than being so close to tears in front of someone. “But. I.” His voice felt scratchy. “But I hurt him.”

“And he hurt you. Things happen. But sometimes…” Shiro paused, swallowing heavily, and Lance wondered if maybe he was trying to tell himself something as well. “Sometimes, people make bad decisions. And in that moment, all you can do is try to make it better. That’s all you can do in life. We can only ever make things better.” He took his arm off of Lance’s shoulder, and looked away. “Take it from someone who… someone who’s still trying.”

Lance took a moment to close his eyes and breathe. Let the words sink into him, comfort him, “Shiro?”

“Yeah, Lance?”

He opened his eyes. “Do you really think he’ll forgive me?”

Shiro was quiet for a moment, and took a breath before answering. “I can’t speak for Keith. God knows what goes on in his mind sometimes.” Lance huffed, and Shiro smiled. “I think we always want a definite answer, but the truth is that nothing ever has a definite answer. And I guess we’re gonna have to put ourselves out there anyway. Because some people are worth it.” He patted Lance on the back. “Yeah?”

“Ha. That sucks.” Shiro laughed, and Lance felt the tension lift. “But yeah.”

“And Lance?”

“Yeah, Shiro?”

“He carried you to the pods all the way from the control room, and wouldn’t let anyone but Coran touch you.” Shiro’s eyes glinted knowingly, and it almost reminded Lance of his mom. “Don’t convince yourself that he doesn’t care. It’s easy to do, but… well. You know as well as I do. He’s scared too, you know?”

Lance did.

 

-

 

_ “Hey, Lance? _

_ “What’s up, Hunk-a-lunk? _

_ “We’ve been friends for how long, now?” _

_ “Time is fake, let’s just say forever.” _

_ “Haha, yeah man.” _

_ “You want Ben & Jerry’s? I’m gonna crack open the Chocolate Cherry Chunk.” _

_ “The dairy industry is fucked up.” _

_ “That’s a yes?” _

_ “Get me a spoon.” _

_ … _

_ “So, just so we’re clear. We’ve been friends since the dawn of time, and… you trust me with things, yeah?” _

_ “Hunk? Darling? My soul’s desire? Light of my life? Where is this coming from?” _

_ “Ha. Nothing, man. Just… I want you to know that you can talk to me. If something is hurting you.” _

_ “Aww, honey Hunk, I love you. But the only thing that’s hurting me right now is this fucking brain-freeze.” _

_ “You shouldn’t eat it that fast, Lance. How many times do I have to tell you?” _

_ “Mmmmm. Chunky cherry.” _

_ “You have to savor each bite!” _

_ “Gobble.” _

_ “One bite of that is more Chocolate Cherry Chunk flavor than a prehistoric family would get in their lifetime.” _

_ “All this power in my hands. And mouth.” _

_ “Ha.” _

_ …  _

_ “If you actually need to talk, though-” _

_ “Hunk?” _

_ “Yeah?” _

_ “Can we… can we just sit for a little?” _

_ “...Yeah, Lance. Of course.” _

_ “Ha. Thanks.” _

_ … _

_ “Love you, Hunk.” _

_ “Love you too, man.” _

 

-

 

Lance paced in the hallway, outside of Keith’s room. The door was there, right in front of him; cold, sturdy, isolating. A tangible boundary set and locked. Nearly effortless to move - there was a button on the wall right next to it, in fact, but once that happened there would be nothing. Nothing to protect Lance from whatever awaited him outside of himself. 

Nothing between him and Keith. 

And how he longed for that intimacy, for that heat in his chest that grasped him, lifted him. He wanted that feeling of soaring, weaving between stars in a way that even the Blue Lion couldn’t accommodate. 

He needed to breathe in air again. His lungs felt as if they were about to burst. 

His room was too close to Lance’s, all things considered. They had a castle, hundreds of rooms all suited for royalty, and the two of them happened to be seated right next to each other. He supposed there was something to be said for it, though. 

Nobody was supposed to go on the roof of the Garrison - Keith and Lance’s first words to each other were watching the sunset atop it. None of them were supposed to know about Shiro’s recovery, years later - still, they found each other underneath the stars, fleeing for their lives. And, though only five beings in the entire universe were able to pilot the Lions, somehow Keith and Lance followed each other into the equation.

They always seemed to defy the odds. _Maybe..._ Lance thought. _Maybe they could do it again._

He raised his hand to knock on the door, the moment it opened from the other side.

Lance stood, frozen in time, hand still raised in the air. Because Keith, though his eyes were rimmed red and his hair was tangled, was still the most beautiful thing in the galaxy to Lance.

“Lance?”

“Hey, Keith.”

Keith’s gaze shot downwards, to the floor, and Lance felt his heart break in two. “The… um. There are cameras. The monitor said you’ve been out here. Did you-” he cleared his throat. “Did you want to come in? There’s… well, there’s…”

He raised his eyes again, and Lance couldn’t say no if he wanted to. “Yeah. I do. I’ve, well, ha. You know. Had some sense blasted into me. Near death experiences - and Shiro, I guess - tend to do that.” Keith laughed a little bit at that. Lance would have given him the world in that moment. “And, so… I was hoping to talk to you.”

Keith grinned, eyes sparkling, and Lance felt himself fall all over again. “I would like that,” Keith said, then paused and lowered his voice. “I… I would love that.”

He moved to the side of the doorway, and motioned for Lance to come in with a small smile. Lance let himself breathe. He inhaled. Exhaled. Took in the air, and let himself become steady. 

Then he walked through the doors, and vowed not to let them close again. 

 

-

 

_ “Oh. Fuck, sorry. I didn’t know you were even up here.” _

_ “No, no, it’s fine. I don’t mind.” _

_ “You know, I didn’t think anyone else came up here but me. I guess if there’s anyone in our Class From Hell to disobey Iverson, it would be you.” _

_ “Well. Who is Eye-verson to tell us what to do, right?” _

_ … _

_ “Are you choking? Should I call someone?” _

_ “Dude! That’s so wrong. Holy fuck, I-” _

_ “I mean, you can’t tell me you’ve never thought of that one.” _

_ “I can honestly say I’m ashamed that I didn’t.” _

_ “Guess I should give up on piloting and try for stand-up.” _

_ “I’d buy tickets.” _

_ … _

_ “Did you actually just ask me if I was choking?” _

_ “How was I supposed to know it was a laugh?” _

_ “Oh, shut up. You know what? I’ve already changed my mind, you’d be terrible at stand-up. It wasn’t a laugh. It was just… an asthma attack.” _

_ “Ha, ha.” _

_ … _

_ “You’re Lance, right?” _

_ “Yeah, actually. I am.” _

_ …  _

_ "Huh. You know, I didn’t think you’d noticed me in class enough to know my name.” _

_ “You wanna know something?” _

_ “Yeah?” _

_ “Neither did I.” _

 

-

 

END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I'm so glad this is done!! Thanks for reading and sticking with me, I love you all!!  
> UPDATE: I've posted the companion fic for Shiro and Adam and you can read it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15636390
> 
> Kudos and comments are seriously appreciated <3

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!  
> The companion fic for Shiro and Adam is now up!!  
> Hang out with me on my vld sideblog (@alluraslaith) or my main (@thebrosefstalin)  
> Comments are always read, obsessively re-read, and cherished <3


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